


Rearrange

by pettyselfindulgences, rabidgopher



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Lio thirsts heavily, M/M, Sugar Daddy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21877672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettyselfindulgences/pseuds/pettyselfindulgences, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidgopher/pseuds/rabidgopher
Summary: Thymos smiled brightly. “Maybe we’re just kindred spirits."That sounded... nice.
Relationships: Gueira/Meis (Promare), Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 21
Kudos: 116





	1. Mr. September

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to petty who made the drool-worthy art of Galo's calendar spread!! And thanks to everyone who read for your interest!!! We have a lot planned so we hope you keep reading ~<3

It had been eight months, three weeks, and five days since Lio Fotia had taken over his _Papou_ Alec Fotia’s business. The transition was without conflict before his passing, and Lio was swift in picking up where his grandfather left off.

He lifted what remained of his wine to his lips, and clicked his tongue before emptying it. On the cue of finishing his drink, a waiter came by to wordlessly take his empty glass and hand him another of the same.

Lio accepted it graciously and the waiter melted into the crowd with a nod. Swirling his second too-expensive sauvignon in his glass, he surveyed the sea of people he’d drowned himself in. He could separate the guests filling the top-floor ballroom of Foresight Heights into two categories: incidental connections from growing up with or around them, and those he’d worked to build a network with. That diplomacy was something he allowed himself to be proud of.

Networking and the nuances of actual connection were two very different animals. Friendship, companionship, actually staying invested and abreast of someone else’s life and propping them up when they struggled - Lio could count on one hand the people he had in his life like that. One less now, and it still stung keenly. The two that hopefully remained had seen him at his worst this past year, so much so that he wanted to make certain to train his focus on being the best friend to them he could be now that things had slowed down and the pain of loss had dulled to bearable.

On a more personal (and nearly as depressing) note, it had been four years, seven months, one week and two days since Lio last had a date. This was the last place he wanted to be on a Saturday evening, but he didn’t really have much in the way of other options.

While he was in school, he’d been exempt from most of these types of functions, but he never minded them terribly. The food, the drink, the crowd - all of it was familiar enough. 

What he _did_ mind was Kray Foresight. He minded very much that he had to put in appearances at a poorly veiled election fundraiser for the most loathsome man in Promepolis. Of course he knew the importance of cementing his reputation early and often, and of course he knew that no matter how much he’d prefer to lay down in traffic, dragging himself to the Foresight Foundation’s hub of operations wasn’t a choice he could make without killing his career in its infancy. Lio sipped at his wine - good, a little dry for his tastes. Putting up with hypocritical bureaucrats was just practice at a grim survival skill more than anything, but it was putting him in a foul mood. _The theater of it all._

This was all supposed to be a firefighter’s gala, wasn’t it? “So where are the actual firefighters?” Lio mumbled into his glass - into the void - as he stole a sip. He’d bet his last shares in his parents’ company that no one in twenty feet of him ever did any actual work. To double down, Lio was positive next to none of them here were even genuinely interested in giving back to the community. This was an event to be _seen_ at more than anything. He estimated the wine served had to be at least three hundred dollars per bottle. The idea irritated him deep under his skin. Three hundred dollars barely covered monthly groceries for the average family in this city. Lio’s face soured briefly, all he could afford before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to regain his composure. 

Continuing to cross the hall, he turned and gave perfunctory greetings as necessary, fielding inane questions about his business and how things fared now that he had taken over his grandfather’s company. “As hard as one can imagine, thank you,” had been repeated politely to the point that Lio nearly said it to the bartender earlier as well. _Just another hour,_ Lio thought to himself as he crossed his arms, bored out of his mind by the formalities of the night. 

Meis was here somewhere, but Lio hadn’t seen him in the last half hour and he missed the friendly face sorely. Just as he was scanning the room for long, dark hair, the lights dimmed and the crowd hushed. Lio let his gaze rise to the stage, starkly adorned with just a podium and some sort of banner he didn’t care to read. Into his glass, his lip curled. Kray Foresight, in his signature pressed white suit, already had positioned himself above the rest of the guests. He made a gesture to quiet the crowd, as if the whole world didn’t shut up when Kray Foresight asked it.

His speech went on about some hyperbolic, flowery nonsense about heroes, the city, the state of the world - Lio listened to precisely none of it. At the end of the day, the only useful words to come out of Foresight’s mouth were the gilded lies of his reelection trail. Actually, he didn’t have to zone out as long as he expected before Foresight welcomed another man into his spotlight. Lio squinted more due to incredulity than actually trying to parse out who it was. To anyone in Promepolis, the man joining Kray would be immediately recognizable. For Lio, perhaps more recognizable than he cared to admit.

“I’m sure most, if not all of you recognize one of our city’s bravest,” Foresight said. “Galo Thymos has been a firefighter for only a short time, but has proven himself repeatedly by serving this city with the kind of bravery most of us can only imagine summoning.” Thymos blushed and his confidence loosened, scruffing at the back of his neck as the audience clapped duly. Lio refrained, aware both that he was being childish and that he was not being watched especially closely. “He’s saved the lives of countless citizens, sacrificed himself time and time again for the sake of the city, and remains the shining star of Burning Rescue station three.” Foresight’s enormous hand clapped on the young man’s shoulder, and from the crowd, you’d think Thymos barely felt impact.

Lio barely stopped himself from snorting into his drink. The only things in pain on stage were the seams on Thymos’ uniform. There must be thousands of dollars sunk in the technology to keep those broad shoulders confined. He’d only had the pleasure of meeting Galo Thymos in person once before, but the man was a beacon of charisma. Lio knew what (who) kept Burning Rescue Three well-funded. He’d seen the public records - he _knew_ how much those calendars raked in year after year.

__

_Mr. September indeed._

Lio sighed the sigh of a man who knew himself too well. Personally, he understood the sales figures of those calendars perfectly. Some of those images kept him excellent company during the longer, lonelier nights finishing his master’s program.

Chewing his lower lip, Lio tried to superimpose this year’s photo on Thymos: a pair of Burning Rescue-branded briefs, photoshopped in front of some kind of fire. Some true genius had oiled him down, smeared “soot” in distracting places, and then given him an armful of dalmatian puppies. They hadn’t been able to rein in his big, dopey grin to something more bedroom appropriate. It would have been laughable if it hadn’t been so stupidly _hot_.

Nevertheless, it’d been a while since he saw Thymos in the flesh. Time had only been kind to him, Lio had to admit. Those absurdly broad shoulders were bad enough, but now, in lieu of paying attention to Kray Foresight, Lio let himself entertain the idea that he might be able to reach his fingers around that impossible waist. Thymos was sporting his perfect hero’s grin now (making it all the easier to compare him in the moment to his calendar spread), flushed lightly from either praise or wine, and oh, that jawline could cut glass.

No photoshop necessary. Galo Thymos was a very beautiful man.

Somehow, over the duration of Foresight’s speech, two more glasses of wine found themselves warming Lio’s belly. He nursed his fourth glass while Foresight wrapped up his speech. Finally, some merciful PA killed the stage lights and the crowd’s murmuring filled the venue again. Thymos unceremoniously hopped clear off the stage, no stairs necessary, and Lio watched from afar as Foresight’s gaze lingered on his protege, his wide mouth turning down at the corners.

Something that tasted of expensive wine and foolish decisions made up his mind. He was hardly _drunk_ ; he could hold his liquor like the best of them (thank you very much, Phi Kappa), but the opportunity had so graciously presented itself. Who was to Lio to choose, in that moment, not to take it? An introduction for Lio Fotia was as effortless as breathing. Money bought him the distinct displeasure of rubbing shoulders with the likes of Foresight for his entire life. He’d have thrown it all out with yesterday’s garbage if it didn’t afford him certain opportunities.

Strictly speaking, there were steps to this. Networking rules and accepted channels and social mores to adhere to. Maybe it was the wine that pushed Lio off the wall, intent on ignoring them all. He had a target in view: Kray Foresight, the most obvious man in the room, who towered over everyone else even without the benefit of a stage and podium. It was a straight line to walk and people peeled apart to let him pass. 

The chief of Burning Rescue Three stood speaking to Foresight with an unflappable air Lio could respect. His face was stoic, apparently unconcerned that he was talking to one of the most powerful men in the city. The distinctive orange jacket seemed wildly out of place against the mass of suits and gowns but frankly Lio could hardly imagine the man in anything else - in all his press coverage, that was the only thing the chief seemed to own.

Governor Kray Foresight stood on one side, Chief Ignis on the other, and Galo Thymos was between the two of them. They looked ludicrous, dwarfing Thymos to the point that Lio, halfway across the ballroom, might be fooled into thinking that the smallest of them was the size of a regular human being. The thought brought an undignified snort of laughter to his lips that he frowned at. _Shit_ , he’d gotten tipsier than he meant to. Annoying, but not unmanageable - he just had to remember to reel it in a little. The back of his glove, cool leather, surreptitiously pressed to his cheek to make certain he wasn’t overly flushed.

The next few steps he took to adjust himself. Straighten his tie, tug at his gloves, square his shoulders; and nothing a moment too soon. Foresight’s height and hawkish eyes picked his out of the crowd and his commanding voice reached right over the other guests. “Lio Fotia,” he crowed.

Lio gritted his teeth behind his best practiced smile. “Governor Foresight,” he replied, shouldering through the rest of the crowd. He was painfully aware that standing next to three giants, he looked downright child-sized. 

Thymos shifted his clear gaze as soon as Lio strode up. Hero worship, ping-ponging between Ex and Foresight, smoothly evolved into uncomplicated curiosity, not a shred of conniving behind his eyes. In a way, Lio could appreciate it. He let a real smile warm his own eyes for an instant, lingering on Thymos indulgently.

A thrill sparked down his spine when that flawless jaw slackened just as Lio turned back towards Foresight. The view was a significant downgrade, but out of the corner of his eye he could still enjoy Thymos’s wide, pretty eyes and the cant of his body shifting to orbit Lio.

Lio wasn’t terribly unfamiliar being watched. Day in the life and all that. But the way Thymos’s whole body reacted to just the touch of his gaze... it was decidedly flattering. He could tune out Foresight holding himself as though he had a telephone pole shoved up his sanctimonious ass, and even halfheartedly returned the dripping pleasantries, but Lio’s focus much preferred to follow Mr. September beside him. Who measured him for that uniform? He could kiss them. 

He hummed in vague agreement to something. “...And no doubt you saw Galo on stage.” Frankly, Lio was half surprised Foresight even remembered someone was standing next to him. “Galo, this is Lio Fotia, president of Fotia Media Industries.” Foresight’s lips twitched in an approximation of a smirk. “I trust his reputation precedes him.”

“We’ve been acquainted,” Lio replied breezily, “once or twice.”

That was a memory he revisited often; an orphanage uptown, a select few wealthy patrons on the sidewalk outside, a crowd of eager children on the lawn. The kids had all been magnetized to an impossibly energetic man offering rides on his shoulders. After a few words, the governor called the man over, and he didn’t come until every single one had gotten a personal high five, fistbump, or affectionate hair tousle. The fireproof jacket long discarded, Thymos had jogged over to be introduced in what could barely be considered a uniform: a sweat-soaked, skin-tight shirt and station-sanctioned trousers.

Lio had practically rolled up to the orphanage set on making a donation, a blank, signed check stashed away in his jacket pocket. He’d sized up Thymos that day. When Foresight said jump, Galo Thymos jumped - all the city knew that.

But. _But._

Those kids (one of whom was absolutely _drowning_ in a massive orange jacket, and it didn’t take a genius to deduce where she’d gotten it) took precedence for him. Lio’s decision had been made twofold. One: he was going to have to start donating anonymously. Two: Galo Thymos was three times the person than even the media made him out to be. Lio’s donation that day had been sizeable. Thymos being there had nothing to do with it - but Lio would be lying if he said it hadn’t hurt, either.

Foresight’s smile was thin as he recalled the encounter. “Of course. We were all very… impressed by your generosity that afternoon.” In time, Lio had come to see how obvious a ploy that had been, but- how better could he really use the money? “Which is precisely why…” And this, Lio realized. Thymos here tonight - that too was a ploy. 

Galo Thymos, the shining golden poster boy for Governor Foresight’s election platform, collected goodwill and donations by the truckload. It was no secret. Lio’s eyes cut over to the firefighter once again, whose face lit up with a grin and snapped like something had just twigged.

“Oh!” he burst out, several decibels too loud - and interrupted Foresight in the process. Lio barely managed to hide a genuine huff of laughter in his wine as he finished it. “That was you!”

 _Oh,_ Lio realized too, smiled, and suddenly understood something very, very well. _He’s a moron._ No wonder.

“Thank you so much for your generosity,” Thymos gushed, taking Lio’s hand into both of his for a hearty handshake. _Fuck,_ Lio thought to himself, blindsided by a wave of heat crashing through his entire body. Thymos’ hands were huge compared to his, warm and calloused from labor, and Lio’s imagination taunted him with a million images and phantom sensations unfit for polite company. “It means a lot to me.” He beamed another thousand-watt smile as his hands lingered, over-familiar, over Lio’s.

He had practiced this, displaying a veneer of vacant politeness with a whirlwind in his mind. “The pleasure is all mine.” Lio smiled, taking a beat to maintain some sense of sobriety. He had no intention of signing a check addressed to the Foresight Foundation that evening. “Your story was incredibly moving. How could I say no? Promepolis’ Child has become one of my favorite charities in the city, for the good they do.” 

“Thank you, just - thank you,” Thymos continued to happily babble, still holding both of Lio’s hands in worship. “It means so much to the kids, and to me.”

He felt Thymos’ bright blue eyes pierce his heart. It had to be a trial of wills, he concluded. That earnest enthusiasm was a force of nature in itself, weathering the wall Lio created himself for the evening. “I’m glad,” he said before turning to look over at a seemingly unruffled Foresight and Ignis Ex. An idea lit his mind before he turned to the giants before him as Thymos still held fast to his hands. “Pardon me, gentlemen,” Lio politely nodded. “I have some boring questions I’d like to ask Mr. Thymos in greater detail. Governor, I’d hate to force you to listen to this palaver. Do you think you could fetch us some drinks?” The flat smile he gave Foresight belied the smug contempt in his eyes.

Foresight paused for a moment before he gave a short nod. “But of course. Anything for one of the youngest philanthropists of our fair town. Ignis, if you would join me, I’ll refresh your drink as well.” He sounded downright constipated. Lio snorted softly to himself in satisfaction as he watched Foresight’s back face him before getting lost in the crowd, and turned back to Thymos.

“So, what questions did you want to ask?” Thymos began, finally releasing Lio’s hands. He resisted the urge to shake the circulation back in lest he lose the heat that remained. Even through his gloves, it clung. “I’d be glad to answer any and all questions the best I can!” His eyes were lit wide like an excited child, devastating in their sincerity.

 _Deep breath, Fotia_. The resonance of Thymos’s hands on his made Lio’s lips tingle when he tapped his finger against his smooth smile as though in thought. “How to go about more direct forms of funding, of course,” he said. “I mean, you do a lot for the community, Mr. Thymos. I’d like to assist in that.”

“Direct?”

“Direct,” Lio repeated. “I came across an article about your latest fundraiser. Despite being the best-selling calendar to date, it still fell short of its goal. May I ask what happened?”

Thymos wrinkled his nose and frowned. “We didn’t really have control over that,” he began. “The printing company upped their prices. I mean, the calendar and dinner tonight is supposed to help all the departments, but ours is way outdated.” 

“Is that so?” Lio asked. He cocked his head to the side as he traced the outline of Thymos’ neck down to his chest. The darting on the uniform was tight, leaving little to the imagination as his eyes trailed down, down to his waist. It suited him like a second skin, but it did seem a little threadbare. _Red leather,_ his brain supplied. _Gold accents. Short leash._ “I’d have assumed Burning Rescue Three would have all the shiny new toys available.” 

“Actually,” Thymos hedged, unaware of Lio’s mind wandering, “we’re in desperate need of new equipment.” He would look _mouthwatering_ against dark sheets, tied down by wrists and ankles. “Our backup truck just broke down again last week, our mechanic’s computer is on its last legs- not to mention Varys killed the _fridge._ ” 

“Oh, that’s awful,” Lio said as he chewed the inside of his lip. It was fine; this was fine. Lio was excellent at multitasking. Just because he was a little too drunk and his thoughts were branching off into the gutter didn’t mean he couldn’t also listen to what needed fixing at the fire station.

“-I’ve been telling everyone for _ages_ that a fire station needs a pole, but they keep saying-”

With how easily Thymos dwarfed his hands, would Lio look just as diminutive against the rest of his body? How long would it take to get comfortable on his cock? Quickly, his eyes flicked back up to Galo’s face, who hadn’t seemed to notice Lio was undressing him with his eyes. 

“...And then there’s our safety gear,” he added. “Good for maybe another year or two, but all the other stations have the newest flame resistant fabrics and upgrades to their trucks.” He locked eyes with Lio, hopeful like a puppy asking for attention. “I mean, we do get some funding from taxes and the Gala, but direct donations and fundraisers help best when we ask specifically for our station…”

“I see, I see,” Lio nodded. And he did, all too well - underfunding the premier and most esteemed Burning Rescue squad in the city only seemed foolish to outside eyes. To civil-minded ones, at least. To calculating, greedy heads of state like Kray Foresight, though, it made perfect sense to turn Thymos loose and let him use his hopeless draw to solicit private funding to firefighting, and from there secure a loaded connection through him. Lio wondered how many in the past had been duped before Foresight had turned his attention to Fotia Media Industries. Thymos, though… Lio was more inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. “That does sound difficult,” he continued, not unkindly. “Why don’t you think your team’s been getting the resources it needs?” He hoped he’d phrased it innocently, kept his tone light.

Thymos blinked. “I… I guess, because there’s not enough to go around,” he said, “and because they have confidence that we can handle whatever’s thrown our way, even without fancier stuff.” 

Some humor seeped into Lio’s voice. “You’re not making a very good case for your cause,” he told him.

Thymos met his eyes square on. To Lio’s satisfaction, there was a wry twist to his smile. “I didn’t think you wanted another sob story. Honesty is the best policy.”

Lio chuckled and held out a hand that Thymos promptly took. “You’ve got my support, Galo Thymos. I’ll do whatever needs doing to get your station up to snuff.” He shook their joined hands once and didn’t drop them - just shifted in closer. “That’s twice now. You certainly have a way with words.”

Thymos smiled brightly. “Maybe we’re just kindred spirits. Uh, just call me Galo, alright?”

“Making a deal already, Galo?” Lio's mood curdled as the governor rejoined them, drinks in hand. The chief was nowhere to be seen, suggesting that he’d managed to ditch Foresight along the way - _lucky him,_ Lio thought bitterly as he took the fresh glass from Foresight. 

He smoothed his face into something more presentable, but Thymos - _Galo_ beat him to the punch. “Well for starters, we might be getting a new fridge for the station!” Galo crowed.

Foresight smiled a lazy, political smile. “That’s wonderful, Galo.” He turned sharp eyes on Lio. “I’m sure no one saw that coming.”

Lio’s stomach churned in revulsion. The wine wasn’t helping matters in his guts, but it made a serviceable mask to hide his face in. “Yes, well, there are worse track records to have.”

“Excuse me.” From behind Lio, a gruffer voice interrupted. He was glad for it. Any more words between he and Foresight were not ones he wished to have. “I couldn’t help but overhear about the station. Here.” Chief Ex produced a card from his opened jacket and Lio took it, examined it, slid it into his breast pocket. “We’ll need to set up a proper meeting regarding anything financial. Sorry, but it’s protocol.”

“Understood. I’d like it to be sooner than later; you can expect a call from me within the week.”

Galo was staring at him curiously. Lio tried to ignore it.

Ex nodded, his mirrored glasses omnipresent and impenetrable. He offered a hand that Lio took easily, and again there was that unflappable aura that Lio couldn’t help but admire. The man was a statue. 

“Galo,” Foresight said, breaking through Lio’s thoughts. “There were a few others who wanted to meet you tonight. It’d be a terrible shame to disappoint them.”

“Sure, I’ll talk to anyone who’s a fan!” Lio watched a muscle in Foresight’s jaw twitch. The chief seemed to be doing the same. “It was nice to meet you again, Li- uh, Mr. Fotia-? Or, uh-?”

“Lio is perfectly fine,” he said warmly, dipping a nod. “Mr. Fotia was my grandfather.”

A frown creased Galo’s brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

Foresight cleared his throat. “Galo.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.”

“No, no, it was on the news, I shouldn’t have-“ Galo huffed. “I mean, Gov saved my life when I was a kid, so I don’t have my parents - well, I mean, I just. I know what it’s like?”

Lio’s patient smile dimmed. “Thank you, Galo.” His voice was too quiet, but Galo appeared to have heard him.

Despite Foresight clearly becoming impatient, Galo stood his ground. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry.”

Lio nodded. “Really, you haven’t. It was very nice to see you again, Galo Thymos.”

Thymos started to trail after Foresight at another, more insistent ‘a _hem_.’ “Okay! I’ll see you around! And it’s just Galo!”

He huffed a laugh through his nose and shook his head. Ex kept his gaze steady past Lio for another few seconds, then gave him a short nod. “We’ll be in contact.”

Thank the gods for Ignis Ex - the only person more straightforward than even Galo Thymos. Lio nodded back. “Yes.” And with that, the chief excused himself and faded into the crowd, leaving Lio once again alone in his thoughts. 

Galo Thymos made sense. It made sense why he’d stick around the governor, for more reasons than his very public ones. Foresight was the real idiot for hooking his claws into someone with so much real, honest _goodness_. Sooner or later, no matter how thoroughly he blinded someone like that to his real nature, it would end up blowing in Foresight’s face like a brick of thermite. Did he really expect Thymos to draw in the right kind of donors? Orphans and public servants - did Foresight really expect anyone who would fund those things to donate to _his_ campaign? Tax breaks for the wealthy, civil budget cuts, militia-level tech for specialized police units - no, anyone who found solace in Galo Thymos’s brimming well of humanity would curl their lip at Kray Foresight’s sense of justice. 

Thymos - _Galo_ \- was far more cunning than he let on. Maybe not on purpose. Very probably not on purpose, and still likely had more muscles than brains, but he had a set of values and a passion, and Lio could see himself growing quite fond of those ideals. 

And. ‘Kindred spirits’ sounded kind of… nice.


	2. Grumpy! At the Firehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly how deranged was it to want to lick latte foam off someone’s chest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally Chapter 2! Thanks for your patience. We’re still alive

Hello Chief Ex,  
It was a pleasure meeting with you this weekend at the Firefighter Gala. As discussed, I would like to contribute directly Station 3 after hearing your needs from Mr. Thymos. Please let me know what time works best with your schedule. I can coordinate accordingly.  
Thank you  
Lio Fotia, CEO  
Fotia Media  
Focus, Integrity, Representation, Entertainment  
>  
>  
>  
Mr. Fotia  
Thank you for your interest. Let’s meet at the station Friday at 2pm.  
Ignis

Lio closed his laptop with an exhausted sigh. It was only Monday, his schedule made the Friday meeting with Chief Ex feel like a lifetime away. Interviews, board meetings, and mounting reports loomed over his head, reminding Lio of the responsibility now riding on his shoulders. The week lurched forward as Lio counted the hours towards the end of the day. His meeting with Chief Ex shone like a beacon, though it felt maddeningly as if it was getting further and further away the closer he sprinted towards it.

The worst of it was the roundabout protest and feigned abhorrence of his board members over his newest executive hire, a particularly shrewd poach from Foresight himself (not that Thyma Frost held any lost love for her former employer; not after that messy scandal only months back involving the Foundation firing her for blowing the whistle on some unsavory practices.) Her resume and reputation alone promised her to be a force of nature, and he looked forward to working with her. She stood by Lio’s business ethics and did not allow the board to intimidate her.

She was a perfect match for the company, deceptively fiery, and believed in his vision for the company. Paying lower-level employees a livable wage made for a wave of mixed reactions by the board, and Lio couldn’t help but laugh at how scandalized they were at the very concept. His only relief from it all was his imagination and a close-up of Mister September - no, Galo’s abs from the calendar. After seeing Galo at the Gala, the wallpaper paled in comparison to the real thing.

When Friday afternoon finally arrived, Lio signed off his last conference call in as professional a voice he could through a tight jaw. None of the people on it deserved his pent-up frustration. “Thank you all for your hard work. Enjoy your weekend.” He allowed himself a moment to slump back in his chair after he hung up. “Finally,” he sighed, and pushed himself up from the armrests to quickly check his reflection in the window. He smoothed his hair down; nothing was out of place, naturally, but it eased his frayed nerves a bit.

The slim, charcoal suit today had been a product of overthought fretting. It was a casual cut, perfect for his purposes, and hopefully formal yet approachable enough for work and a volunteer meeting.

Lio didn’t even try to pretend that his buzzing anticipation had nothing to do with Galo Thymos. He’d been to dozens of meetings like this and none had made him second guess his outfit.

He turned to his phone and hit the extension for Anibal, his personal assistant and holdover from his grandfather’s employ. Hands quaking, Lio was aware he was acting like a student preparing for summer break. He found he didn’t much care.

“Yes, Lio?” Anibal’s voice was tinny but crisp through the phone. 

“Good afternoon. I’m headed to a private meeting this afternoon and it’s going to keep me out of the office the rest of the day. Anything pressing can be sent to my email,” he said as he combed his fingers through his hair, tutting over the peak of his lapels. Yeah, he was probably overdressed. Ugh. “I don’t mind if you head home now.”

Did he even need to be dressed up? It’s not like they didn’t know who he was or what he was there for. 

“Then I’ll do that. Have a good weekend, Lio.” With a click, the PA went quiet and Lio steeled himself for a more pleasant appointment. 

Burning Rescue 3 was nestled in the push-and-pull between the Burnish and Parnassus boroughs of Promepolis, a short brick building among glass and steel high rises on the corner of a swarming intersection. Lio found he didn’t stand out as much as he assumed he would - there were still plenty of businesspeople around, though not nearly as many as downtown.

By comparison, the street was modestly populated with a few mid-tier shops and restaurants. Burning Rescue shared the age of a few of its neighboring buildings, and contrasted sharply with others that gleamed with the permanence and style of fast-architecture. Lio had grown up in Promepolis, had seen nearly every street there was to see. It was a familiar sight, two vastly different socioeconomic classes butting up against each other in an obvious clash of culture. Burning Rescue 3 was uniquely reputable for serving large chunks of both the richest and poorest districts.

It hadn’t always been that way, of course. The station had existed for nearly a hundred years, centrally located in the poorest section of the city until gentrification and population crawl had nearly overtaken the streets around here.

Lio looked the building up and down. He was more curious to the state of things inside, rather than the rustic exterior. According to Galo, the building was a little dated, with minor repairs necessary, but Galo was a humble man. The benefit of the ride over allowed Lio to regain his composure. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited as he pressed the intercom labeled “PPFD,” and drew a deep breath. 

No answer.

Lio pursed his lips and pressed again.

The intercom crackled and a man’s cool voice broke through the dated system. “Hello, station 3, how can I help you?” 

“Lio Fotia,” he said. There was a pause, long enough to verge on uncomfortable. Usually, just his name was enough. “Erm, I’m here for-”

“-Yes, just a moment,” the voice replied, overlapping his. “Ah, sorry. There’s a bit of a delay in the intercom system.”

Another thing to look into. Lio’s lips pressed together in consideration. Through the other side of the door, Lio could hear footsteps and the clacking of the door before it opened. 

A much taller, bespectacled man stood before Lio. “Hello, Mister Fotia, please come in-“ he began to say when he yelped, and a petite blonde with a wry grin vaulted over the man’s shoulders.

“Ooooh, is this that ‘Lio’ Galo won’t shut up about?” she exclaimed, pointing a gloved finger in Lio’s direction. He blinked. “He’s shorter than he looks on TV-!” 

“Lucia!” the man hissed, pulling the girl back. He adjusted his glasses and extended his hand towards Lio, quickly regaining his composure. “Apologies, Mister Fotia. I’m Remi Puguna, and this is Lucia Fex, our R&D expert.”

“Lio, if you please,” he said politely, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you Remi, Lucia.” He nodded to both of them, as Lucia appeared to size him up. Remi motioned for Lio to follow him down the short hallway from the entrance.

The narrow corridor was lined with picture frames of station crews dating back till the photographs were in black and white and the trucks looked like museum props. The hall opened out into a massive open-plan common room where Lio immediately saw a couple of familiar faces.

Lucia zipped between Lio and Remi to a dated console and frowned. “Dammit! Still not done loading!” she yelled, slamming her fist on the desk. “Update, damn you!”

Unphased at Lucia’s outburst, Ignis Ex turned approached Lio with a respectful nod. Hot on his heels and peeking over his shoulder, beaming brighter than the sun, was Galo. Lio found it impossible to stifle a smile once he laid eyes on Mr. September. 

“Lio! You made it!” Galo slipped to the side of the chief and took Lio’s hands in both of his to squeeze. Lio felt the pressure in his hands and chest simultaneously. “I’m so excited. You’re like our Station 3 angel!” 

“He’s already bragged to station 7 about you,” a woman said, twisting to face him from the couch where she was playing some kind of racing game against an enormously beefy man. “I’m Aina, really nice to meet you, Mr. Fotia!”

“Just Lio,” he corrected, nearly a reflex by this point. 

“Dammit!” the larger man cursed, throwing his controller down on the couch. “You’re not even payin’ attention, how’d you win so easy?”

“Varys,” Aina said, “we have a guest.”

“Oh!” The giant of a man stood and swung himself over the back of the couch. It tipped dangerously, and the woman - Aina - shrieked.

“Varys!”

“Sorry!” He seemed to be addressing both Lio and Aina, and stuck out a massive hand for Lio to shake. “Varys Truss. Nice to meetcha!”

“It’s very nice to meet the whole crew,” Lio said, and meant it. He allowed one hand to escape Galo’s hold only to be engulfed by Varys’.

“Dude, Galo!” Varys piped up, suddenly remembering something. “Vic at 7 wanted to know how hanging out with his sister was!” Aina smacked Varys in the arm as Galo stared up at him till it twigged. 

Lio quickly glanced over at Galo.

“Oh! Yeah, she was nice,” Galo laughed, scratching the back of his head. “She got mad later that night when I hailed a cab down and told her to say hi to Vic for me. I bet she wanted another ride on Matoi, but it was pretty late!”

Matoi?

Varys roared with laughter. “Called it!” he cried triumphantly. Lio stared, bewildered at the exchange. 

“Called what?” Galo blinked, lost on what Varys was going on about. “Whatever, dude.” He then turned his focus onto Lio, picking up his hand again. “I’m really happy to see you again. Honest.” The smile Galo gave felt private, even intimate as he beamed towards Lio. 

“Oh- as am I,” Lio replied, taken aback by the sudden quiet intensity. His heart jumped looking into Galo’s bright blue eyes when Ex cleared his throat from behind the two, snapping them out of their reverie. 

“Lio - call me Ignis if you please,” Chief Ex interrupted. “Now that introductions are done, let’s go into the conference room to talk.” Lio began to follow the Chief when Galo stood there, standing behind. “Galo, you too, since you insist on being our spokesperson. Come on.” At those words, Galo’s face lit up and he fell into step with Lio, who had to resist checking for a tail wagging behind him.

More paperwork, Lio lamented privately as he sat, idly paging through the handouts as Ignis spoke about the procedure and how Lio’s funds would be managed. He didn’t pay any mind. He didn’t want to. 

Lio already had a good idea of what he intended to do for the station - a monthly donation dedicated to the maintenance and upkeep alone, with an additional allowance to be used at the station’s discretion. Donations were always at risk of mismanagement, but working closely with the station crew, he hoped, would dissuade any unwise spending. Plus, none of them exactly screamed “embezzler” to Lio. 

His eyes drifted to Galo as Ignis recited protocol and legal, drinking in his presence. His outfit today - baggy uniform pants and a nearly painted-on black t-shirt - flattered him a million times better than that stiff navy dress uniform. Unfortunately, it gave Lio dangerous ideas as he watched the fabric stretch with every movement Galo made. God. His fucking pecs, how was he human? Lio chewed his lip. He’d bend this man over a table in a heartbeat.

Making a point to check back in with reality, Lio tried to keep his focus on Ignis but - beside him, Remi pulled a strained, sour face. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Ignis trailed off. “Remi?” he prompted.

Remi’s lips pulled into a non-smile. “I’m listening. Continue.”

Lio’s eyes caught on Galo once again, who seemed to now be shrinking in his seat. His ears were red. Lio’s brows pulled down and he glanced back to Remi, glowering in turn at Galo and into his paperwork. “...Should we take a break?” Lio wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“No, we should keep going,” Remi gritted out. “Sorry.”

There was no one but Ignis to direct his confusion towards, so Lio smoothed it out and shrugged. “Alright, well, as you were saying.” Ignis looked to his two men before adjusting his shades and continuing his lecture on the department’s legal rights. 

After a while and Lio finally giving his input, and shaking satisfied hands, Ignis excused himself to make copies of the amended agreements to sign. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Ignis nodded as he stepped out of the office, allowing the door to click behind him and-

BAM!

Lio jumped, a hand reflexively going to his chest. “What-”

“ARE YOU SO DUMB YOU CAN’T EVEN PLAY FOOTSIE RIGHT?” Remi hollered, leaning over the hands he’d slammed on the table. “Leave. Me. Out. Of. It!”

Lio’s eyebrows flew up his forehead and he whipped his head around to Galo. Galo was red from his roots to where his skin disappeared under his collar, but he wasn’t shrinking away anymore. “Whaaat,” he whined, not sounding particularly remorseful.

“Footsie?” Lio echoed, incredulous.

“You’re not innocent here either, Fotia!” Remi’s finger jabbed at him, accusatory.

He bristled and shot to his feet to mirror Remi. “Excuse me? I don’t even know what you’re yelling about in the first-”

“This is a business meeting - you think I don’t notice you undressing this idiot with your eyes?”

This instant curiosity in Galo’s eyes made Lio want to sink into the floor. Oh god. He… may need to work on his subtlety. His throat felt thick when he protested, wind sufficiently taken from his sails. “That’s- I would never-”

Galo stood as well, holding his hands up as if to bring the volume down. “C’mon now, no need to argue!” He turned an apologetic tone on Remi. “Look, man, I’m sorry. My bad. I got fidgety! We should really all try and get along, though.”

“‘Fidgety’ my ass!” Remi spat.

Lio felt a pit land in his stomach. He despised being seen as one of those figures, the ones to impress lest he put away his wallet in retaliation. As if he would renege on something he’d already committed to like that, as if he’d be so petty as to turn his back on a cause because he couldn’t make peace with a single person. There was a selfish creature inside him that made him speak up.

“No, it’s alright.” He wouldn’t be that man. “No real harm done, right? My attention’s been divided all week, and we could probably all use a break.” Lio nodded up at the clock. “We’ve been at it for an hour now, at least.”

Remi gave him a wary once-over and folded back into his chair. “I have to leave that up to the Chief.”

Several agonizing, silent minutes later, Ignis finally returned and Lio was more than happy to sign what he needed and end the meeting. His eyes turned briefly to Galo, the lingering pit of awkwardness in his gut fading.

“Thank you again,” Ignis said, shaking Lio’s hand. “We appreciate your generosity towards our station.”

“My pleasure,” Lio smiled. 

“We look forward to working closely with you,” Remi said with a tilt to his smirk that, if Lio didn’t know better, he’d suspect meant he was laughing at him, following after Ignis as Lio and Galo followed the two back out of the conference room. 

“I would expect nothing less from one of the city’s bravest,” Lio said, watching Galo’s back as he dropped back to file out of the conference room last. “I would love to have a tour of the station if it’s not that much of a bother… I like to work closely with the organizations I donate to to make sure needs are being met.”

“Oh, I can do that,” Galo volunteered loudly, spinning on his heel while his arm shot up - as if there were any other option to pick. 

Lio covered his chuckle in his hand. “Please. I’ve been looking forward to the tour. Seeing as you’re the station’s ‘spokesman’ and all, maybe you could tell me a bit about the history of the building.”

Galo wasted no time showing Lio everything that worked and... didn’t around the station, finally reaching the kitchen nook. Lio took an offered cup of water and looked over to his stunning tour guide.

“Well, you weren’t kidding when you said how much was in disrepair, but it’s certainly doable,” Lio said, taking a sip. “We have our work cut out for us.” 

“Absolutely,” Galo beamed, shotgunning his cup of icy water, unphased. He let out a relieved noise and looked over to Lio as he leaned on a neighboring kitchenette dedicated to coffee. “Especially as of late. We’ve been having more and more fires in the Burnish district than we can keep up with. It’s not been announced officially, but if you ask me, there’s an arsonist on the loose.” He chewed on the lip of the cup, clearly bothered. “I got in some hot water earlier this week over even suggesting that.” 

“Really?” Lio took a seat at the breakfast nook. “Who with?”

“Yeah,” Galo sighed. “I mean, it was just a scolding from Ignis, so no big. Just something about not jumping to conclusions.” He waved it off with his hand. “It’s only been bothering me the past few times we’ve been called out, all incidents close to the Parnassus border. I’m glad I was able to help put out the fires, but… I don’t know. I’m probably wrong. Ignis knows better than a rookie would, anyway.” His eyes distanced, and then he shook himself and looked to Lio, smiling. “You came in at a good time. We could use the help now more than ever.”

“I’m glad,” Lio trailed off, shifting uncomfortably with a churn in his stomach. More of him wanted to keep interrogating him about his suspicions, but Galo seemed to have shut that door on the conversation. Instead, he settled on a safer topic. “You know, I’ve been wondering what inspired you to become a firefighter.”

Galo’s shoulders lost some tension as a bittersweet smile crossed his lips. “Well, everyone knows the story of how Gov Kray saved my life when I was a kid. I don’t remember much about that night cuz I was only like eight, but the way Kray rushed in! And the firefighters that night were so incredible! I felt so safe, even though it was scary.” He looked down into his water. “I lost my parents, but Kray always took time to visit me after that. The thought that anyone could be a hero stuck with me, and I’ve made it my life’s mission now.” His eyes sparkled as he spoke, warming Lio from the center of his chest. “I just want the Gov to know that pulling me outta that fire wasn’t for nothing, y’know? I wanna make a difference.”

“Consider me moved,” Lio murmured. “You have a way with words, Galo Thymos.” Something ugly inside him interjected no wonder Foresight keeps him on the campaign trail, but he squashed that. Not the time nor the place. “There aren’t enough men as admirable as you.”

Galo laughed bashfully. “Is that admirable? It feels kinda selfish some days.”

“We’re all a little selfish,” Lio mused. That’s why he was here, wasn’t it - to be selfish? He couldn’t claim innocence by any stretch. “I like to think I do my best not to be, but it’s hard not to cave some days.”

“You don’t seem selfish to me,” Galo said, cocking his head to the side in genuine thought. “Someone who was really selfish wouldn’t be worried about it like you are.”

Lio laughed, a dry thing. “I’m afraid you don’t know me very well yet, Galo Thymos.”

Galo opened his mouth, just enough for a gust of air that might have been words to escape. As it was, his silence coincided with Remi’s appearance through the archway into the kitchen.

“Galo, your shift is over in ten minutes. The chief wanted to make sure you hadn’t lost track of time. How about you show Lio out? I’m sure he’s a busy man.”

“Already?” Galo asked in mild surprise, looking at the clock. Even with the meeting, the afternoon had flown by and the sky was starting to transition towards evening.

“Shame. I was enjoying our conversation, Galo.” Lio stood, flirting with the idea of asking Galo to dinner when the man spoke up.

“Ah, that’s right,” Galo rubbed the back of his buzzed hair, blushing. “I nearly forgot. I’ve got to run to PromePawLis tonight!”

“The rescue shelter?” Lio asked. He was familiar, as a regular (anonymous) donor there. The image of that calendar print flashed before his eyes. No, not now.

“Yup! I’m helping in the back this week. One of their regulars is sick and they just got a litter of kittens that need attention.”

“Plus, we’re short on overtime funds this month,” Remi crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. “Hurry and clock out before you go over again, please.”

“I will!” Galo took one of Lio’s hands and gave it a gentle squeeze, sending a shock of electricity through his system. “Thanks so much again for coming, Lio. You’ll be coming back to the station to visit? I mean, to see how things are progressing with your help, that is.” 

“Of course,” Lio blurted out, still unable to shake That Picture from his mind - again. “I fully intend to.” 

Monday came around once more, as it was wont to do, and Lio found himself with few better options for lunch than the Starbucks Coffee across from his building. He hated going to the chains, but it was lunch rush; the time he spent waiting in line actually sort of relaxed him, anyway. His mind was too preoccupied these days.

Everything had been simpler before his grandfather had died. In his absence, Lio buried himself with work to avoid the painful fact that the man who loved and raised him was gone. If not for Meis’ one-man intervention, Lio wouldn’t have woken up from that fevered stupor. But thinking of Meis made him remember his commitment to the wedding, made him fret about how he’d had to turn down the position of Best Man because he was a terrible friend and couldn’t un-avalanche himself from his workload in time for the ceremony.

It made him think of Meis’ understanding and Gueira’s lopsided grin when they told him they figured, but wanted him to know he was their first choice. And sure, he had appreciated the gesture - felt honored to know that, really! - but it only made him backslide on the whole Misplaced Guilt thing.

And that was, of course, where the firehouse came in. He couldn’t devote the brain space to a wedding (and Meis and Gueira deserved so much better than a half-assed best man - it would be even worse to accept and find himself distant, detached, careless) but he could allocate a little thought and certainly a chunk of money to his favorite local celebrity’s livelihood.

It shouldn’t have taken any emotional effort, is what he really meant. 

With a frown, he studied the menu with more fervor than necessary. He didn’t need to scrape together a plan to get back to firehouse - he didn’t need Galo’s number to survive or anything. Maybe it’d be nice to talk to him, was all. Outside of their obligations. 

Lio was in the middle of drowning himself in excuses he didn’t buy for a second when he spotted a shock of blue hair. Lio’s heart stuttered as he did a comically perfect double take. Galo?

He was just. Here. Lio watched, vaguely aware that his mouth was open, as Galo smiled and waved at a woman retreating from his table. He looked oblivious to the frown Lio could see. Had he turned her down?

The man himself sat there, unmissable even in unassuming clothes for his hair and frame and jawline. He was dressed in a tight shirt and knit cardigan, sandals poking out from under the table with his hair pulled back and pair of glasses resting on his nose.

“Sir?”

If he turns out to be a Starbucks hipster, I’ll never forgive you, he silently swore to his dick. Galo had a laptop open in front of him. Never a good sign.

“Sir.”

Exactly how deranged was it to want to lick latte foam off someone’s chest?

“SIR,” the owner of the voice said more emphatically, heavy with impatience. Lio spun around to realize he finally made it to the register. “What can I get you?” 

“That man,” 

“This is a coffee shop, sir.”

Lio snorted. “No, no. That man - what is he having? I’d like to order him a drink.” 

The barista looked over Lio’s shoulder. “Pfff. Mister September? He hasn’t paid a dime for anything since this morning.” Behind the register was the fundraiser calendar taped up underneath the restaurant certifications. No part of Lio was surprised. “He’s been guzzling black coffee for two hours now. Not sure how he’s not ricocheting off the walls yet.”

Lio hummed, considering this. “Probably a tolerance. I’ll get a large Earl Grey latte, and two of the caprese paninis, please.” 

“One for Mister September. Got it.” The barista punched a few buttons, looked over towards Galo and back to Lio. “Would you like one of us to take it over to him for you?” she asked. “No one’s gotten anywhere with him today. He’s either writing the next great novel or waiting on someone.” She eyed him. “But I guess if anyone has a chance, you do, Mr. Fotia.” Lio only startled for a second this time; getting recognized like a celebrity was still new, but getting older.

Lio looked over his shoulder towards Galo. “I’ll take that chance,” he said with a secret smile, drinking in the view of Galo sitting by the cafe window, glowing with a godlike aura. 

“Mhm. You live dangerously, sir. That’ll be seventeen ninety-five, please.”

“Thank you,” Lio nodded, absentmindedly handing the barista a fifty before retrieving his order. Maybe I have the upper hand, he mused, carrying the order confidently towards where Galo sat. As he approached, Lio worked through his plan of attack. He had never seen Galo on this end of town, let alone the fact Station Three was at least a ninety minute train ride over. 

He wet his lips, ready to speak when Galo looked up from his laptop. That smile could launch a thousand ships. “Lio!” He beamed, making the CEO regret leaving his sunglasses in the office. “What brings you here?” 

“Lunch,” Lio told him with a soft, charming smile, and placed one of the sandwiches in front of Galo as he slid into the seat across from him. He stole a glance at the barista who served him and smirked before turning his attention back to Galo. “What about you?” He asked, taking a delicate sip of his latte, allowing the lavender and vanilla aromatics to fill his senses. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Do you live nearby?” That was unlikely, in a borough known for being almost exclusively offices and seven-digit penthouses. 

“You could say that,” Galo hedged, unwrapping the panini offered to him. “It’s my day off at the station and I don’t have any volunteer work until this afternoon.”

“PromePawLis?”

Galo shook his head ‘no’ before glancing at Lio over his glasses, eyes goading him to guess again.

“Promepolis’ Child?”

“You got it,” Galo beamed. “I’m helping assemble a new jungle gym this afternoon.” 

“Oh? The kids will be so disappointed.” Galo’s eyes turned questioning and Lio elaborated. “They probably thought you would be their new climbing structure,” he teased, thinking back to when he’d first laid eyes on Galo in person. 

Galo laughed. His eyes crinkled at the edges, sweet and soft and helpless. Lio let his eyes drift down to his sandwich, but his gaze froze halfway there. A picture of a giant shark framed with flowers was emblazoned across that tight shirt with the script, ‘Mako Love, Not War.’

“Is that a pun?” Lio asked, nodding to the shirt.

“Sure is!” Galo said, puffing his chest. “The animal shelter gave me this last Christmas for helping out!” Okay, Lio had to admit, that was undeniably adorable. 

“...It’s cute,” Lio admitted with a smile. He hid it with a fond shake of his head and rested his chin in his hand. There was something so open about him that it made it impossible not to poke a little fun - he’d apologize if he was rude, but Galo’s reactions alone were too unadulterated to miss a chance to get a rise out of him. He kept his voice light enough that it hopefully wasn’t acerbic. “This is the fourth time I’ve seen you in person, and every time it seems like you’re wearing a uniform or something you’ve picked up from work,” he ribbed. He wouldn’t mention the public appearances, all of which followed the same pattern.

Galo paused with a hand to his chin in thought. Oh God. He nodded. “I think you’re on the money,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

Lio honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking. He… kinda hoped he was. “Well that won’t do,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, crossing his arms on the table. “If you wear the puns over and over again, they won’t have as big an impact. Maybe you need to switch it up.” 

“Oh? So you’re a comedian in your spare time?” Nice. Now he was going to have heart palpitations from the quirk of a single eyebrow.

“Maybe I’m a stylist. Want to find out?”

Galo brightened and said gamely, “You’re on!” 

“When are you free?” How the fuck was this actually going well?

“Next Friday afternoon. I think you’ll be surprised, Lio Fotia! I can dress myself just fine, even Aina says so. Being naked’s no fun.”

Lio hesitated, taken off his rhythm for a split-second. He had enough trouble not picturing Galo naked without the man himself bringing it up, for heaven’s sake. “Meet me in the lobby of Fotia Media across the street at three o’clock on Friday, and don’t be late,” he told him, recovering long enough to keep his words unfragmented, and pulled out a business card. “My personal number is on the back. Don’t lose it.”

“Oh- thanks!” Galo took the card from between Lio’s outstretched fingertips with wide eyes. Lio stood and straightened his jacket, checking his watch and grimacing.

“I’ll see you around, Galo Thymos.” Snapping his cuffs straight, Lio turned on his heel before Galo’s belated goodbye could land.

On the street, he slowed to peer through the window. Galo’s mouth was agape at the card, flipping it from front to back a few times. Blue eyes shifted forward to the cup in front of him - fuck, Lio’d forgotten his latte - and a perfect grin threatened to eclipse his entire perfect face. Then-

Every ounce of smugness evaporated in an instant. Lio choked. He stumbled. He watched Galo, in the privacy of the public cafe, press his lips directly over Lio’s printed phone number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is a music hound, the title was inspired by Biffy Clyro’s “Rearrange” found here: https://youtu.be/wCeiLdfrXso


End file.
